


Well-adjusted

by lemonadesoda



Series: And I don't think you hate this as much as you wish you did [4]
Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Arctic Cruise episode, Cameos from DJ Grooves and the Conductor, Dadtcher, Human!Snatcher, Oh the Humanity AU (A Hat in Time), Other, QPR Moonjumper and Snatcher, Queerplatonic Relationships, oth!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27767563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonadesoda/pseuds/lemonadesoda
Summary: Sometimes it takes a change in scenery to give one a change in perspective. (And sometimes, you have to prank the Mafia a little.)
Relationships: Bow Kid & Snatcher (A Hat in Time), Hat Kid & Snatcher (A Hat in Time), Moonjumper & Snatcher (A Hat in Time)
Series: And I don't think you hate this as much as you wish you did [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999939
Comments: 14
Kudos: 110





	Well-adjusted

**Author's Note:**

> Why was this the hardest story on earth to write. Anyway, the Snatcher and Moonjumper conversation comic that Mak drew is literally tattooed on my brain so that's why this sequence exists. While it does chronologically take place before You Know Me, you do need some of the context from YKM for it to really hit.
> 
> Arctic cruise comic 1: https://doodledrawsthings.tumblr.com/post/627309525563850752/  
> Comic 2 (the conversation): https://doodledrawsthings.tumblr.com/post/631975410912133120/
> 
> Mentions of: alcohol and drunkenness, non-graphic vomit

Snatcher reminds himself for the hundredth time how he got bullied into joining the group for a cruise adventure. The sea breeze sweeps in the cold of the open ocean, foreshadowing the environment he’s about to sail into headlong. It prickles his face, and he winces, remembering the way his body would seize up at the mere sensation of chill. In his peripherals, he can see the kids and Moonjumper all watching him nervously, and perhaps it’s his rare luck that the annoyance of it is distracting enough that he’s not triggered into panic.

“Okay, it’s fine, you can all stop staring!” he announces, loud enough to turn the heads of some other passengers.

“As long as you’re sure,” Moonjumper says.

Everyone keeps watching him, but they think they’re being discreet about it now. Snatcher rolls his eyes. He doesn’t like the reminders of his current fragility, despite the fact that they are well-founded. Of the four of them, somehow, he’s become the most...ordinary, like he needs even a couple of kids to nanny him, and that sets his mind with determination that no matter what, he’s not going to let this stupid body get the better of him on this trip. The universe owes him that one little victory.

Finally, the doors open, and they flood in with the rest of the passengers. Moonjumper checks them in while the kids drag by the sleeve around the lobby, giving him the world’s most boring tour of the S.S. Seriously Impossible To Sink This Time For Sure, a name which manages to be even less encouraging than the first ship’s.

“That door leads to the ballroom and that one goes to the pool. And then that one goes to the casino. They said we’re too small to play any of the games which is dumb, but you might like it ‘cause there’s betting and stuff.” Hat Kid points out all the different passageways, but none of them can actually go see them until Moonjumper gets back with their room assignment.

“Why don’t you just wait until we can actually walk around?”

“But this is so exciting! You’re the only one who hasn’t been here. And we know all the secret passageways.”

He doesn’t like the implication that he’s going to be dragged through those too. A secret tunnel is all well and good when you can shapechange at will, but he does not want to go crawling through some air vent when there are perfectly functional doors. Thankfully Moonjumper finds them before he has to worry too much about that.

The balcony of their room overlooks the main hall of the ship, a precipitous drop that lands in an oddly tropical interior garden. It’s all a perfect replica of the original ship, Hat Kid informs him. The room itself is on the smaller side, a bit cramped for the four of them, but at least Moonjumper doesn’t particularly need one of the two beds and the kids regularly share anyway. Snatcher drops his backpack onto the bed closer to the wall. He’s going to be hard pressed to get any privacy here, isn’t he?

An hour goes by, during which the kids treat him to a proper tour and introduce him to their bird director friends. Over the course of this, a pressure starts to build in his head, worsening the more they walk through the twisting corridors. The stifling interior air closes in around him, making the few stints where they walk around on the exposed decks a refreshing relief. By the time the captain announces their departure, the headache has reached a pounding crescendo, but it’s only when the ship surges into motion and he topples into a wall that he realizes what he’s feeling.

“Snatcher? You don’t look so good,” Bow says as he slides down the wall into a crouch.

“I think he’s seasick,” Hat whispers.

“Erghh,” he says and does not elaborate.

“I’ll go get Moonjumper,” says Bow, and she runs off, while Hat Kid curls up next to him.

Snatcher doesn’t particularly want Moonjumper to come since they’ll probably fuss, and what he really would like is for his head to stop being full of water, but if he opens his mouth, he’s afraid his stomach might turn inside out. It’s been only two hours, and the cruise lasts a week. Maybe if he’s lucky, he’ll just die here in the hallway.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you got seasick,” Hat Kid says quietly.

He didn’t either, he thinks. The Prince never traveled by sea, and Snatcher never had to worry about motion sickness. Hat Kid drums her fingers on her knees, filling the silence. It’s pretty obvious she’s trying to think of something else to say, but he’s currently being a conversational brick wall.

“Hey, are you dudes okay?” some tourist with a fish head asks as they walk by.

“Yeah, just a little seasick,” Hat replies.

“Oh gnarly, I feel that.” They rummage in their pockets. “Here, try these gummies. They always help me until I find my sea legs, y’know?”

Snatcher squints at the floor while Hat Kid chats idly with the passenger. A fish getting seasick? His head hurts too much to comprehend this. Hat unwraps the gummies and smacks one against his mouth. He recoils and grumbles, lifting a hand to take it from her and eat it himself like a normal person. It’s ginger spicy and burns down his throat, but it does settle his stomach just a little.

“Did it help?”

He mumbles but pitches it up at the end to indicate,  _ A little. _

Hat Kid hands him another gummy, and he works his way through the bag the fish gave them until Moonjumper and Bow return, the latter carrying a bundle of clothes--his sweater, scarf, and knitted hat.

“Can you stand?” Moonjumper, dressed as the Badge Seller, tucks a hand under his arm to help him up. “We’re going to the top deck. You need some fresh air.”

What Snatcher wants to say is, “Can’t we just teleport there? I know you can.” What he actually says is, “Mrhm,” and stumbles off with them on the long trek to the top.

They situate him on one of the tables on the balcony overlooking the pool, and Bow hands him his winter clothes one by one. Moonjumper brings a glass of ginger ale and crackers and sits down with him.

“You two should go play. You’re on vacation,” they tell the kids.

“But what about Snatcher?” Hat Kid asks.

In response, Snatcher flicks a hand at them, waving them away, nursing the beverage with his other. Hat Kid frowns at him for a bit before slowly turning around and running down the stairs with Bow.

“I have it on good authority that you’ll feel more adjusted after a night of sleep.” Moonjumper pauses, and as much as the Badge Seller guise can seem uncertain, they do. “Well, at any rate, it’s what people have told me.”

He lifts his head and peers at them from behind the ginger ale.  _ What the hell is that supposed to mean,  _ he thinks at them.

Moonjumper, to their credit, manages to pick up what he’s putting down. “I’m just saying that you shouldn’t get too down about the week ahead of you. I’m sure you’ll feel better soon enough.”

The breeze up here is just as brisk as it had been on the docks--he’s glad for the extra layers Bow Kid brought him. At the very least, he’s too sick to have any other physical reactions, but he’s not sure he likes the trade-off. Along the balcony, he can see a few other green-tinged passengers. Well, at least he’s not alone either. The fresh air does help clear his head though, and the oppressive dizziness recedes.

“As much as this one has gotten off to a shaky start, it’s probably for the best you missed the previous voyage, though,” Moonjumper muses, “seeing as the little one managed to sink the first one-”

Snatcher chokes on the soda. The carbonation zings up his nose, and he hacks through his laughter. “She  _ WHAT? _ ” he barks--the first coherent words he’s managed since they departed.

Moonjumper freezes, and then frantically waves their hands at him. “Wait! I wasn’t-no! Snatcher, keep it down! It’s not something that’s meant to be out in the open-”

“Well, you kinda stepped in it there, Moonface!” He flops against the back of the chair, sliding partway down as he cackles, once again drawing attention from passersby.

“She’s really embarrassed about that!” Moonjumper whispers. “You need to be sensitive.”

“Sure! I’m good at that!”

“Snatcher! I’m serious!”

Moonjumper is lucky the kids have long since left the deck because he certainly would have caught their attention, and he has no intention of being sensitive. The laughing makes him light-headed though, and he has to start back at square one with treating the dizziness, but this time, it’s worth it.

  
  


It’s day three of the cruise, and Snatcher is pretty sure his blood has been replaced with ginger ale, but at least he’s survived half of what’s shaking out to be the longest week yet of the human predicament. He and Hat Kid have reached a stalemate in the ship-sinking mockery war. He has to be better at remembering how strong she is and how willing she is to use that against him in his helpless state. She is also, unfortunately for him, very funny to get a rise out of, so he struggles to resist the temptation, despite the consequences. Getting tossed in the pool was a very big consequence though, so Snatcher is avoiding her for now.

He is pleased to note that despite it being freezing, he managed to keep his cool, no pun intended. Still, it hadn’t been enjoyable, so he’s hiding out in the casino at the heart of the ship where there is a maximum amount of wall separating him from the arctic wind and the kids find too boring to frequent. He buys a handful of tokens; there is the added benefit of him getting to waste everyone else’s pons.

Snatcher walks by the card table and sees the Badge Seller surrounded by penguins and crows(?) with an enormous stack of chips in their corner. He shoots them a dumbfounded stare, and they respond by tilting their masked head in a way that on Moonjumper would have absolutely been an eyebrow waggle. One of the penguins throws their cards down, lamenting, “This guy’s poker face is just too good.” He shakes his head. And to think they go after him about  _ his _ shady deals.

Snatcher sits down at one of the slot machines, curious to see the appeal. After mindlessly sliding in tokens and watching the wheels spin, he concludes that there isn’t much, although it is hypnotic, so maybe that’s the trick. He’s got all these tokens though, so he might as well use them up before he moves on to better pastimes. On the last one, the slots line up, and the machine bursts out with fanfare, drawing everyone’s attention.

“What’s happening?” Snatcher leans back in the seat from the explosion of music and sound effects.

“Looks like you hit the jackpot,” Moonjumper says in their distorted Badge Seller voice from behind him.

“Huh.”

“Congwatuwations, siw.” A little seal wobbles up at his side, making him jump. “You won the gwand pwize.” They gesture to a line of other seal attendants behind them, all hauling pails full of fish. “Yeaws suppwy of bestest anchovies. Ouw favowite! You’we so wucky!”

Snatcher looks down at the seal then looks up at the line of fish buckets and then back at the seal. “Oh my god.”

Moonjumper scream-laughs into their hands.

* * *

“You can’t just dump them all into the ocean,” Moonjumper says. “It would be wasteful.”

“Well  _ I’m _ not about to sleep with the fishes!” Snatcher sweeps an arm out over the stacks of buckets the little seals have so  _ kindly _ delivered to their miniscule suite. “So unless you have any other  _ bright ideas,  _ I’m making a charitable donation to the whales.”

“We could just hide them all over the ship,” Hat suggests. “As a prank.”

“The joke will be on us too, soon enough, or more to the point our noses,” Moonjumper says with a grimace.

“Maybe not,” says Bow. She taps her fingers together as she thinks. “I have another idea for a prank.”

Hat Kid pumps her fists. “Oh, yes, Bow’s pranks are the best.”

“Anything that makes these not my problem, I’m in.”

Ten minutes later, they’re hiding in the crevice between the kitchen and the dining hall. The kids have stashed the anchovies in their pocket dimension. Dozens of Mafia are hogging the tables in the dining room, clamoring for fancy dinners.

“Okay, almost time,” Bow whispers as the seal chefs bring over the first order to the window. Once they drop it off, Bow Kid hands off a couple of buckets, and Hat and Snatcher dart out while the seal turns around and swap out the dinners for the buckets of fish. Unwittingly, the seal wait staff waddle up, take the buckets without a care and make their first delivery of orders. They repeat this process multiple times, every single one of the seals none the wiser, while the commotion from the Mafia increases with every round.

“Mafia keep getting bucket of stinky anchovies!”

“Mafia ordered filet mignon, not filet of fish! Mafia wanted steak dinner on Mafia vacation.”

“Mafia Town is full of fish. Mafia was hoping to get away from the smell…”

The three of them peek over the counter at the disappointed Mafia, and the few who are quick enough on the uptake to try and send the orders back are locked in a painful attempt at communicating this to the befuddled seals. Most of them have accepted their fate and are munching on the fish. The trio all collapse behind the counter, cracking up. Snatcher has to press his fist against his mouth to avoid making a scene.

“That’s disgusting.” Snatcher takes a bite out of the stolen steak dinner as he watches the buffoons eat raw anchovies. “But very funny. Nicely done kiddo.” He gives Bow Kid a friendly jostle.

“We still have a few more buckets. Want to leave them on Mafia Boss’s balcony?” Hat Kid cracks a sly smile.

Bow Kid giggles and nods, and Snatcher grins back. The three of them scramble out of the kitchen to hit their next mark. Snatcher takes the steak plate with him.

* * *

The kids have settled down for the night, and Snatcher takes some time to himself, looking out over the moonlit black sea. The crescent is still bright enough to illuminate the rippling water and set the looming icebergs aglow as they drift by like ghostly leviathans.

“May I join you?” Moonjumper slides up, no longer in their disguise, now that all the passengers have quieted and mostly returned to their suites.

Snatcher makes a noncommittal noise and waves his hand to his side. They take a spot next to him and gaze out at the night.

“I’m glad you managed to put your grand prize to good use,” they say with a chuckle.

“I don’t really see how it’s any less objectionable to feed the pinstriped goons than the local wildlife, but it  _ was _ funnier. And I got a steak dinner on the house. Or on the Mafia, technically.”

“I’ve been around Mafia Town. It was justice well-served.”

Snatcher narrows his eyes at the pun, and Moonjumper smirks sidelong.

“Regardless, it was good to see you getting out and about. I was a little worried you were going to be a hermit the entire week.”

“Psh. I only came on this trip in the first place because if I didn’t, the kiddos would have had personal rain clouds following them around for the rest of the year.”

Moonjumper gives him a knowing look, and he ignores them. “Oh come on, it’s not as though you have no interest in travel yourself. I heard about you trying to smuggle yourself on the last ship.”

“Like I said, the circumstances were very different. For one, even if I had been on the sinking ship, drowning and hypothermia were insignificant to me.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself on this one. Why not take advantage of the change in scenery?”

Snatcher rolls his eyes. “I went from being stuck in one floating metal box to another. Not much of a change if you ask me.” He gestures out at the view. It’s still moonlight and icebergs. “And as you can see, the scenery out here doesn’t change much either.” He doesn’t want to admit that they do have a point. Being stuck on the spaceship was making him go even more insane that he already had been.

Moonjumper clicks their tongue. “You’re no fun. There still is a lot to do here, even for your sensibilities. Sometimes you have to be a bit spontaneous! I got pulled into that poker game by accident, you know.” They elbow him lightly. “Made a lot of pons.”

“Hah, yeah, well, not all of us can be as friendly and well-adjusted as you.”

Moonjumper goes very still, then cranes their head around to him. “Wait...you think  _ I’m _ well-adjusted?” They smack a hand down on the railing, and the clang, combined with their explosion of laughter makes Snatcher jump. The laugh is a touch unhinged, so Snatcher briefly rethinks his position.

“Oh dear…” they say, a little breathlessly as they lounge against the rail. “I’m flattered but if  _ I’m _ your idea of what ‘Doing Great’ looks like-” they snicker, “-I don’t want to know what your idea of  _ rock bottom _ is.”

Snatcher’s lip curls at that. That’s real fresh. Are they that naive that they don’t know what they look like? It’s been centuries since he has moved through the world with the freedom they show, flitting in and out of random strangers’ lives and calling it camaraderie.

Moonjumper smacks him on the arm, jolting him from his reverie. As if reading his mind, they say, “Oh, please. This isn’t your rock bottom.”

“Hah!” Snatcher spits. “Let’s think about it shall we?” He ticks off his fingers. “I lost my powers, my immortality. I’ve been humiliated more times than I can count in the span of two months, and what’s more, I’m at the mercy of the two space brats I tried to kill, who might I add, are frequently the ones doing the humiliating, so  _ what pray tell _ makes you say  _ that? _ ”

Moonjumper falls quiet, their expression going flat. For a moment their eyes flick off to the side, a bit hazy as if in recollection. “Because I’ve been you at rock bottom.” They turn to lean fully on the railing and tilt their head up toward the moon. “And I don’t think you hate this as much as you wish you did.” When they glance at him again, Snatcher flinches back slightly at the directness of their gaze. “I think  _ that’s _ what’s really bothering you.”

That’s ridiculous, obviously. The only difference is he’s not literally chained up in a basement. But Snatcher has spent years working to rise above the man who let that happen, and now it’s gone, reversed in a single shattering of an hourglass. 

“I really wish you’d stop acting like you know me,” Snatcher says in a low voice. He’s back at square one, and if they truly understood him the way they think they do, they would know this.

(So why does he feel so cornered now?)

“I wish you’d realize I’m the last person on Earth who does.” There’s a tinge of bitterness to their voice, perhaps hinting again at that supposed part of them that’s not so well-adjusted.

That last statement echoes in Snatcher’s mind, even after he walks away from the conversation. How can the two of them be so different if that were the case? Not for the first time, Snatcher questions whether their tenuous alliance is worth the effort. So many of their talks end with this same bitter incongruity, and he’s getting sick of dealing with it. He always walks away from the situation feeling worse. If they truly understood him, why can the two of them never seem to see eye-to-eye?

Much like on the spaceship, Snatcher passes the time wandering through the empty halls, unwilling to retire to the suite yet. The muffled sounds of guests relaxing and chatting in their rooms are his only company. He catches an elevator that stops at an empty nursery, and he slams his hand on the button to keep going as soon as he sees it. At the elevator’s terminus, it opens to the darkened pool deck. A few penguins doze in their inner tubes, and the only noise here comes from the bar where the bird directors are currently its only occupants. The yellow one the kids introduced as the Conductor is loud enough to make up for the quiet of the rest of the ship, and his colorful penguin counterpart rumbles his comparatively inaudible responses.

Snatcher rubs his hands together, blowing into them. He ought to go back inside, since he’s not properly dressed to be wandering on the breezy upper deck, but he doesn’t know if the lift is going to stop at the damn nursery again, and he really can’t deal with that right now for reasons he doesn’t want to think about. Instead, he tucks his head down and marches along the poolside to try and get back to the main hall from a different entrance.

“Ah, laddie, yer out late. Thought ye’d have yer hands full keeping the wee lasses in check.”

He clomps to a halt. “Why? I’m not their babysitter.”

“Coulda fooled me,” the Conductor mutters into his glass.

“What my esteemed colleague is  _ trying _ to say, darling, is why not put a leg up with us for a bit?” says DJ Grooves. He tips his martini in Snatcher’s direction. “You look like you could use something to warm you up.”

Snatcher shoves his hands in his pockets. He’s never been much of a drinker, or at least this body hasn’t. Vanessa never really cared for him to drink. The thought sparks rebellion in him though, and it is freezing, and he still doesn’t want to go back to the room. Ah, what the hell. He goes to the bar.

* * *

“You know, the worst part about being alive again is how much you fear dying.” Snatcher half slumps across the counter, talking into his glass. “For no reason! I’ve done it before, and it’s not  _ so  _ bad. Dying is the easy part.”

“Ye don’t say,” the Conductor says.

A part of Snatcher’s mind is aware that he is very drunk, but it’s currently trapped behind a rosy haze and cannot keep the words from coming out of his mouth. “I do say. Being alive is the worst. No offense to you other alive people. I can’t do...” He blinks, trying to remember how words work. “I can’t do  _ peck. _ Hahahaa!”

“Now, I can’t say I know very much about dying,” says Grooves, “but I do know a lot of people would kill to get a do-over in life.” He chuckles. “It’s why those Time Pieces were so enticing.”

“Believe me, this second go-around has not been any better. Zero out of ten, would not recommend.”

“Methinks yer not making the most of yer chances,” the Conductor says, slamming back the remains of his whiskey. “Yer on a luxury cruise for peck’s sake. That’s got to be better than whatever ye went through the first go.”

Snatcher groans, sprawling himself out further and resting his cheek on the countertop. “Ugh, you sound like Moonjumper. I don’t get what’s so great about a dumb cruise. Doesn’t make up for the fact that I’m stuck in this pathetic, worthless meat suit.”

“The little lasses seem to think yer worth somethin,” says the Conductor quietly.

The trains of thought in Snatcher’s brain experience a pileup, and he gets distracted by his distorted reflection at the bottom of his cup.

“Snatcher! There you are.” The Badge Seller drifts over to the bar from the elevator.

“Heyyy, Moony. Speak of the devil, am I right?” Snatcher drawls. He jabs a thumb toward the directors. “Have you met these birds? They’re a  _ hoot!  _ Get it?” He slaps the counter and wheezes.

“I’m glad you’re socializing, but I think it’s time for bed,” Moonjumper says, eyeing the number of empty glasses that have piled up.

“Nae worry, the last bit’s just soda,” the Conductor tells them. “I cut him off a little while ago.”

“Whaa??” Snatcher says, squinting at him.

“Might have been a touch late, even so,” DJ Grooves adds. “Darling will be feeling it in the morning.”

“Okay, up we go.” Moonjumper hoists Snatcher off the stool by the arm. “Sorry for the trouble.”

“Not at all, darling.” DJ Grooves waves at them.

Moonjumper waves back. “Good night, and thank you!” They start to lead Snatcher back toward the elevator, and a primal part of his brain flashes rejection.

“Nope!” He twirls around out of their grip, nearly spiraling face first into the floor and staggers off in the opposite direction.

“Snatcher! Where are you-” Moonjumper hurries after him.

“Don’t like that elevator,” he slurs.

They sigh. “Okay, it’s fine, we don’t have to take the elevator.”

They guide him on a slightly more roundabout path, and once they leave the top deck, Moonjumper shifts back into their usual form. Pah. Shapeshifting. Another thing he can’t do.

“Why’d you come find me anyway?” Snatcher asks, walking an erratic serpentine along the balcony.

“It’s almost 1 a.m. The little ones were worried about you.”

Snatcher stutters to a halt, and he wrinkles his nose. “Why?”

“Well, you’re not usually out this late. You might have gotten hurt.”

“Suure. We all know the one thing this version of me is good at is  _ dying. _ ”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well it’s true.”

“I know you’re...a bit inebriated, but are you alright?”

Snatcher spins on his heel to face them, holding his arms out wide. “I dunno. You’re supposed to know me. Read my pecking mind!” He laughs loud enough for it to ring off the metal walls around them. “Peck. That’s a funny word.”

Moonjumper rubs their forehead. “Okay, I think my comment may have gotten to you a bit.”

“Nahhhh, it’s fine. It’s all fi-ine.”

“Snatcher…that doesn’t sound fine. I-”

“Right, right, since you know all about rock bottom,” he bites out.

They flinch back. “That’s not fair.”

Snatcher claps a hand to his chest. “Oh, it’s not? Well then, tell me how I’m supposed to feel, since you’re so much better at being me than I am.”

Moonjumper’s jaw goes slack for a second. “I never said I was trying to be!” They wipe a hand over their eyes hastily. “I just wanted to get through to you that you’re  _ not alone. _ ” Their shoulders sag, and they wrap an arm around themself. “Believe me or don’t, I do know how it feels.”

They both fall silent, and now that the blood is no longer pooling in his brain so much, Snatcher takes note of the blurry nausea that’s been circling him since he left the bar. “I never knew…” he says thickly.

“Heh. No.” Moonjumper shrugs, but the motion carries such a familiar weight that Snatcher wonders how he missed it. “You never looked.”

His head is really swimming now, and he regrets the drinking--maybe Vanessa was right about that--because this is a bad conversation for him to be mired in brain fog, and his throat is really clenching right now, but he really should say something, and-

Snatcher whips around and vomits over the side of the boat. His legs buckle, and he twists his arms around the railing to keep from crumpling to the ground. He pants from the exertion of holding himself upright, throat still spasming, as he stares down at the lines of foam eddying around the hull far below. The nausea recedes, though, and so does the pressure that had been building in his head. Somehow he can breathe more clearly now.

A pair of hands clasps him by the arm and pulls him to his feet. He struggles to bear his own weight and has no choice but to lean into them. “Sorry…” he mumbles, though he can’t sort out how to say the rest. Sorry for making you carry me again. Sorry for not paying attention. Sorry for not being better.

He’s not sure if they can hear the words buried in that “sorry” because they don’t respond. “You need to rest,” is all they say. They glance around to check if the coast is clear, and then summon a pulse of moonlight and teleport them back to the suite.

The kids sit up in a rush when he and Moonjumper pop into the room. Fabric rustles, and the light clicks on. “You found him!” Hat Kid says, rubbing her eyes as she slides off the bed. “What happened?”

“It’s alright, he was just with your director friends,” Moonjumper tells her.

“Are you seasick again?” Bow Kid asks in a groggy voice, looking at the way Moonjumper is keeping him afloat.

“Yeah, guess so,” Snatcher mutters.

“You should shower first,” Moonjumper whispers to him. “You’ll feel better.”

He just nods, and lets Hat Kid hand him his pajamas and goes to wash up. They’re right--the shower clears away the remainder of the haze. He leans on the sink, keeping his head down but still aware of the specter of his reflection in the mirror just ahead. Reflections. The problem with them is how they show you all the things you don’t want to know about yourself. Snatcher lifts his head and hazards a glance at himself.

His face is still flushed, and the dark circles under his eyes stand out even more in the washed out light. He sighs heavily, pushing his hair out of his face, and averts his gaze again. Why does Moonjumper still stick around after everything? He huffs a sardonic laugh. Guess they both can’t help caring about people who hurt them. They really are the Prince after all.

Snatcher emerges from the bathroom and burrows into the blankets, and on cue, the kids scramble up and converge on his bed before he can react, snuggling up with him on either side. “Wh?” He turns to Moonjumper, who’s sitting in a chair across the room, but they only laugh at him and shake their head with a shrug.

He flops back against the stack of pillows.  _ The little lasses seem to think yer worth somethin. _ He glances to either side of him--the kids are already nodding off, and he’s not in any particular mood to disturb them. The warmth now is better than the poor substitute drinking had been.

(And he doesn’t hate this.)

* * *

The next morning, the headache comes crashing back when he awakens, and he’s grateful for the dark room. He groans and leans over toward the bedside table but stops short at the weight pushing against his side. His arm brushes over a cloud of curls poking out from the top of the blanket under which Bow Kid is completely submerged, tucked against him. More carefully this time, he reaches for the lamp--difficult when there’s another weight on his other side from Hat Kid. Even the soft glow of the lamp zings through his skull as it clicks on, and he squeezes his eyes shut for several seconds.

With the curtains to the balcony drawn, he can’t tell how much time passes before Moonjumper returns from wherever they had been. “Oh, good, you’re awake.” They hold out a glass of clear liquid, carbonation fizzing up along the sides. “Here, the Conductor told me this will help with the headache.”

“How’d he know?”

They laugh. “He’s no stranger to a hangover, it would seem.”

“Oh. Right.” With the clarity following a good rest, Snatcher recalls the events of the previous night. He squeezes his eyes shut again, but this time from mortification. Why did he say all those things? “About...about last night…”

Moonjumper waves a hand. “Some other time, maybe. When you’re feeling better.” Something tells Snatcher they don’t just mean physically. Understanding goes both ways, perhaps.

They sit in comfortable silence until the kids rouse themselves and initiate their chaos, and this awkward but sustainable equilibrium continues for the remainder of the cruise. Snatcher still doesn’t know why Moonjumper stays, but a week later, in the broken hours of midnight following dreams of a discarded future, he remembers the feeling of a sturdy grip on his arm, holding him upright when his own strength failed him and decides he doesn’t want to be alone.


End file.
